Story Book (Mythklok Interstitial)
Jun. 25th, 2011 11:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tikificTitle: Story Book (Mythklok Interstitial)
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Concerning angels, pirates and peanut butter
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs
Notes: This one is for Z, who's been sending some hee-larious links about disasters wrought by kids. Human kids.
“Peanut butter,” said Wotan.
“Peanut butter to you, my darling,” laughed Raziel.
“No," said her husband, displaying a brownish sticky goo on his fingers. "It was on Sleipnir’s saddle.”
“Yes? And?” said Raziel. As Wotan was still scowling, she continued, “You’ve taken the twins out riding, correct?”
“I have, but not since cleaning my tack yesterday!”
Raziel shrugged. “What can I say? They like their 'beena burr.' It’s like baby crack.”
“Aye, but enough to coat their entire persons in it?” the god asked, irritably wiping his fingers on a rag.
“Maybe. I found little peanut butter footprints on the ceiling a couple weeks back.”
“Hello, Uncle!” said Ganesh, as he and Charles appeared in Asgard with Elias.
“Peanut butter!” greeted Wotan. “On my damned saddle!”
“Ah, yes,” said Ganesh, nodding. “Nandi’s fur was all matted with jelly this morning.”
“You’ve let the boy eat jelly sandwiches while riding that bull?” Wotan asked disbelievingly.
“Nope. He’s been nowhere near!” Charles attested. There seemed to be a hint of pride in his voice.
"It just appears to ... gather in unusual places," Ganesh ventured.
“I have raised children for ten centuries in the halls of Valhalla!” Wotan thundered, the walls of the vast building trembling slightly at his voice. “I have never seen the like!”
“You’ve never raised angels, dear,” Raziel shrugged.
“He’s actually only a little bit angel,” Charles said, looking at Elias.
Suddenly, there were squeals of “BOOOOOO!” and the boy sprang out of his father’s arms to greet his cousins as they flew in screaming, the great wolves and a tiger loping in after them. The adults scattered in a valiant attempt to save various end tables, antiques, wall hangings, lamps and bookshelves upset by the resulting fracas.
“I think a little is plenty,” said Raziel, clutching at a Ming vase while Wotan held up a tapestry, Ganesh used half a dozen arms to right a tilting bookshelf and Charles clung desperately to a lamp stand.
After dinner that night, as three toddlers sat babbling together in a crib, and wolves and tiger chased each others' tails, Ganesh sat down in the nursery and opened a well thumbed storybook. "All right, settle down, everyone," he said. He frowned and looked curiously at his fingers.
"What are you doing?" Charles demanded.
"Reading them a bedtime story so they'll all go down to sleep," Ganesh told him as he wiped some peanut butter that had stuck to his fingers off in Liam's hair.
Charles seized the storybook. "Oh, not Dumbo again?" he asked, suddenly looking at his hand in surprise.
"Tis a classic story! And look! Look at what our son can do!"
Charles looked up from licking the peanut butter off his fingers. To his shock and horror, Elias, standing gripping the side of the crib, grinned a devilish baby grin and wiggled his ears.
"Aiii! That's freakish and horrible! Is he gonna grow tusks now?"
"Of course not!" Ganesh scoffed. "Sariel, this, er, talent might not even be from me. You know my elephant heads weren't naturally mine!"
"You’re reading them too many gods damned elephant stories! That’s the problem! Why don't you read them a charming angel story for a change?"
"Because there are no charming angel stories," Raziel huffed as she came into the nursery. "Angels are weird and creepy!"
“We’ll write an angel story then!” declared Charles.
“What, us?” asked Raziel.
“What? YOU?” laughed Ganesh.
“YES! We’re going to write a sweet and heartwarming angel story sure to be beloved by many future fucking generations!!”
"I'll leave you to it," laughed Ganesh, as he rose to depart. “I’m going to go have a cocktail or two with Uncle and discuss peanut butter removal solutions.”
"All right," said Charles, seizing pads of paper and some crayons. "You start us off, Raziel!"
"Me?" she asked.
"You tell a story. Just, any one of our stories! You’re a good at making shit up. And I'll write it down. And they'll illustrate!" he explained, passing out coloring materials to relevant parties (for the most part, those with opposable thumbs). "They’re expert artists! No, that doesn’t go up your nose, Liam!"
"OK. Two angels walk into a bar...." began Raziel.
"You can't tell them that one!" Charles protested.
"Sariel, all our stories start that way."
"This is for kids! You have to make it slightly stupid. What if they go into a malt shop instead?"
"What the fuck is a malt shop?"
"Humans used to go into them," Charles explained, "and drink malteds, and they would call each other mugs."
"Wait. Was this when all the humans wore hats?"
"Yes, during the hat days!"
"Hmm. Well, at least that was classy. OK. So, two angels walked into a malt shoppe...."
"Oh, don't add an extra E like that."
"It makes it classy!"
"It makes it precious!"
“All right, all right. Two angels walked into a malt SHAWP. One of them was a brave and legendary fighter, but she was also terribly stylish and all eyes were upon her, especially her darling little hat. And then there was another angel. And so they-"
"Wait, nothing else about the other angel?"
"Eh. He was a little boring."
"You obviously need an editor! ‘The other angel .. was witty, and people liked him!’” said Charles, scrawling it out in crayon.
“That’s debatable.”
Suddenly the artists had dropped their drawing materials to buzz around excitedly. Nathan Explosion had burst into the nursery.
"Ganesh dude said you were reading stories. ARE THERE PIRATES?"
"Nathan, I don't think...." Charles began, as he tried to push an overwrought wolf out of his lap.
"Yes of course there are pirates!" Raziel told him. “There are always pirates. There are … UNDEAD PIRATES.”
Nathan and Charles both scowled at her.
“It’s been done,” Charles scoffed, crossing his arms.
“There are…. There are…. Death Metal Pirates!” said Raziel.
“What?” said Charles.
“That sounds AWESOME!” agreed Nathan.
“That’s sounds dumb. Pirate musicians? Where the fuck do they plug in their amps?’ Charles asked.
“And they sailed the seven seas! In search of peanut butter!” said Raziel.
“WHAT?” said Charles.
“Peanut butter is fairly brutal,” declared Nathan. “Was there rum?”
“Yes, rum and peanut butter!”
“Cool. Hey, don't I get to CRAYONS TOO?” asked Nathan.
“Sure!” said Raziel.
“Wait. What the fuck does this any of this have to do with the angels?” asked Charles suspiciously.
“Well, they were shanghaied! They were in the malt shoppe…”
“Shop!”
“Drinking peanut butter rum floats, and the pirates – the terrible Death Metal Pirates – came in and kidnapped them!” she explained.
“Wait! Why didn’t the angels just kick their fucking asses?” Charles asked.
“Because…. The boring angel had eaten too much pie and could only sit around whining that he had a tummy ache!”
“Hmpf,” said Charles, who didn’t deny it.
“And their greatest rivals were the pirates of the black ship, Garden of Sound. Led by the dread pirate, Shirtless Chris.”
“This sounds kinda lame,” Nathan commented as he chewed thoughtfully on a red crayon.
“Whaddya mean! This story has just gotten good!” said Charles. “So, what did Shirtless Chris think of the witty angel? Did he think he was cool?”
“So there was a great battle between the Death Metal Pirates and the Garden of Sound Pirates, as each of them cranked their amps up to twelve…” Raziel explained.
“That’s ONE MORE THAN ELEVEN,” Nathan said approvingly.
“…and all madly hurled peanut butter pies at each other!"
“Such a waste,” mourned Charles, imagining the terrible pie carnage.
“But then Shirtless Chris saw the stylish little angel, and said, ‘You are very brave and well turned out, and that little hat goes well with your outfit, so won’t you come and be my pirate wench?’”
“WHAT?” said Charles, throwing down his paper and crayons. “NO HE DI’N’T!”
“Sure. He just did.”
“THIS IS THE WORST STORY EVER!” Charles wailed.
“How are we doing?” inquired Ganesh, who had just come to check on the situation and polish off another dry martini.
"We're doing fine!” Charles sulked. “Wonderful!"
"We just need an ending!" Raziel told him.
"Perhaps I can help?" Ganesh suggested, picking up Charle's recently discarded story and flipping through the pages. “Let us see. So," he told the now rapt children, animals and death metal musicians, "a handsome elephant showed up, and he was dressed all in Emporio Armani….”
“Wait a minute, an elephant in a suit? Elephants don’t wear suits!” Charles protested.
“They do if they do not wish to appear frumpy!”
“Maybe he wore meggings?” Raziel giggled.
“ELEPHANTS DO NOT WEAR MEGGINGS," Gamesh thundered.
“Glad we’ve cleared that up," Charles grumbled. "And what the fuck was e elephant doing in the middle of the sea?"
"It was springtime, when elephants typically take sea voyages. To avoid the crowds."
"Oh-ooooohhhhh," said Nathan.
“And the handsome elephant spied the witty angel and said, ’Well, aren’t you lovely?’ And he took him off to Elephantland, where they raised many handsome little elephants and all lived happily ever after.”
“LITTLE ELEPHANTS? Why didn’t they raise little angels?” Charles demanded.
“Oh, who wants to raise little angels? They’re horrid,” said Ganesh, as Liam stuck a tongue out at him.
“But the whole point of this was to raise the self-esteem of little angels! And you have the angel running off to Elephantland and raising more elephants!”
“He was a handsome and stylishly dressed elephant!”
“WHAT ABOUT THE PIRATES?” demanded Nathan.
“Oh, yes, they lived happily ever after with the pirates, who always brought them peanut butter. Elephants love peanut butter. Now, can we all go to sleep?" The angel babies giggled and gave him peanut buttery kisses, and then settled down and almost immediately began to snore. The great animals too piled up in a heap and nodded off to dream wolf/tiger dreams.
"Huh. Well, that's weird," said Charles, who turned to see Nathan also sawing wood in his chair.
"Elephants," Ganesh whispered smugly. "Now," he said, rising and shutting the story book, "Anyone for a martini?" He looked curiously at his fingers and frowned.
"Sure," said Raziel, skipping off.
"Yeah, OK," grumbled Charkes. Ganesh put an elephant arm over his shoulders, running his fingers through Charles's hair, leaving a peanut-buttery trail.
Author: tikistitch
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Concerning angels, pirates and peanut butter
Warnings: Slash, AU, OCs
Notes: This one is for Z, who's been sending some hee-larious links about disasters wrought by kids. Human kids.
“Peanut butter,” said Wotan.
“Peanut butter to you, my darling,” laughed Raziel.
“No," said her husband, displaying a brownish sticky goo on his fingers. "It was on Sleipnir’s saddle.”
“Yes? And?” said Raziel. As Wotan was still scowling, she continued, “You’ve taken the twins out riding, correct?”
“I have, but not since cleaning my tack yesterday!”
Raziel shrugged. “What can I say? They like their 'beena burr.' It’s like baby crack.”
“Aye, but enough to coat their entire persons in it?” the god asked, irritably wiping his fingers on a rag.
“Maybe. I found little peanut butter footprints on the ceiling a couple weeks back.”
“Hello, Uncle!” said Ganesh, as he and Charles appeared in Asgard with Elias.
“Peanut butter!” greeted Wotan. “On my damned saddle!”
“Ah, yes,” said Ganesh, nodding. “Nandi’s fur was all matted with jelly this morning.”
“You’ve let the boy eat jelly sandwiches while riding that bull?” Wotan asked disbelievingly.
“Nope. He’s been nowhere near!” Charles attested. There seemed to be a hint of pride in his voice.
"It just appears to ... gather in unusual places," Ganesh ventured.
“I have raised children for ten centuries in the halls of Valhalla!” Wotan thundered, the walls of the vast building trembling slightly at his voice. “I have never seen the like!”
“You’ve never raised angels, dear,” Raziel shrugged.
“He’s actually only a little bit angel,” Charles said, looking at Elias.
Suddenly, there were squeals of “BOOOOOO!” and the boy sprang out of his father’s arms to greet his cousins as they flew in screaming, the great wolves and a tiger loping in after them. The adults scattered in a valiant attempt to save various end tables, antiques, wall hangings, lamps and bookshelves upset by the resulting fracas.
“I think a little is plenty,” said Raziel, clutching at a Ming vase while Wotan held up a tapestry, Ganesh used half a dozen arms to right a tilting bookshelf and Charles clung desperately to a lamp stand.
After dinner that night, as three toddlers sat babbling together in a crib, and wolves and tiger chased each others' tails, Ganesh sat down in the nursery and opened a well thumbed storybook. "All right, settle down, everyone," he said. He frowned and looked curiously at his fingers.
"What are you doing?" Charles demanded.
"Reading them a bedtime story so they'll all go down to sleep," Ganesh told him as he wiped some peanut butter that had stuck to his fingers off in Liam's hair.
Charles seized the storybook. "Oh, not Dumbo again?" he asked, suddenly looking at his hand in surprise.
"Tis a classic story! And look! Look at what our son can do!"
Charles looked up from licking the peanut butter off his fingers. To his shock and horror, Elias, standing gripping the side of the crib, grinned a devilish baby grin and wiggled his ears.
"Aiii! That's freakish and horrible! Is he gonna grow tusks now?"
"Of course not!" Ganesh scoffed. "Sariel, this, er, talent might not even be from me. You know my elephant heads weren't naturally mine!"
"You’re reading them too many gods damned elephant stories! That’s the problem! Why don't you read them a charming angel story for a change?"
"Because there are no charming angel stories," Raziel huffed as she came into the nursery. "Angels are weird and creepy!"
“We’ll write an angel story then!” declared Charles.
“What, us?” asked Raziel.
“What? YOU?” laughed Ganesh.
“YES! We’re going to write a sweet and heartwarming angel story sure to be beloved by many future fucking generations!!”
"I'll leave you to it," laughed Ganesh, as he rose to depart. “I’m going to go have a cocktail or two with Uncle and discuss peanut butter removal solutions.”
"All right," said Charles, seizing pads of paper and some crayons. "You start us off, Raziel!"
"Me?" she asked.
"You tell a story. Just, any one of our stories! You’re a good at making shit up. And I'll write it down. And they'll illustrate!" he explained, passing out coloring materials to relevant parties (for the most part, those with opposable thumbs). "They’re expert artists! No, that doesn’t go up your nose, Liam!"
"OK. Two angels walk into a bar...." began Raziel.
"You can't tell them that one!" Charles protested.
"Sariel, all our stories start that way."
"This is for kids! You have to make it slightly stupid. What if they go into a malt shop instead?"
"What the fuck is a malt shop?"
"Humans used to go into them," Charles explained, "and drink malteds, and they would call each other mugs."
"Wait. Was this when all the humans wore hats?"
"Yes, during the hat days!"
"Hmm. Well, at least that was classy. OK. So, two angels walked into a malt shoppe...."
"Oh, don't add an extra E like that."
"It makes it classy!"
"It makes it precious!"
“All right, all right. Two angels walked into a malt SHAWP. One of them was a brave and legendary fighter, but she was also terribly stylish and all eyes were upon her, especially her darling little hat. And then there was another angel. And so they-"
"Wait, nothing else about the other angel?"
"Eh. He was a little boring."
"You obviously need an editor! ‘The other angel .. was witty, and people liked him!’” said Charles, scrawling it out in crayon.
“That’s debatable.”
Suddenly the artists had dropped their drawing materials to buzz around excitedly. Nathan Explosion had burst into the nursery.
"Ganesh dude said you were reading stories. ARE THERE PIRATES?"
"Nathan, I don't think...." Charles began, as he tried to push an overwrought wolf out of his lap.
"Yes of course there are pirates!" Raziel told him. “There are always pirates. There are … UNDEAD PIRATES.”
Nathan and Charles both scowled at her.
“It’s been done,” Charles scoffed, crossing his arms.
“There are…. There are…. Death Metal Pirates!” said Raziel.
“What?” said Charles.
“That sounds AWESOME!” agreed Nathan.
“That’s sounds dumb. Pirate musicians? Where the fuck do they plug in their amps?’ Charles asked.
“And they sailed the seven seas! In search of peanut butter!” said Raziel.
“WHAT?” said Charles.
“Peanut butter is fairly brutal,” declared Nathan. “Was there rum?”
“Yes, rum and peanut butter!”
“Cool. Hey, don't I get to CRAYONS TOO?” asked Nathan.
“Sure!” said Raziel.
“Wait. What the fuck does this any of this have to do with the angels?” asked Charles suspiciously.
“Well, they were shanghaied! They were in the malt shoppe…”
“Shop!”
“Drinking peanut butter rum floats, and the pirates – the terrible Death Metal Pirates – came in and kidnapped them!” she explained.
“Wait! Why didn’t the angels just kick their fucking asses?” Charles asked.
“Because…. The boring angel had eaten too much pie and could only sit around whining that he had a tummy ache!”
“Hmpf,” said Charles, who didn’t deny it.
“And their greatest rivals were the pirates of the black ship, Garden of Sound. Led by the dread pirate, Shirtless Chris.”
“This sounds kinda lame,” Nathan commented as he chewed thoughtfully on a red crayon.
“Whaddya mean! This story has just gotten good!” said Charles. “So, what did Shirtless Chris think of the witty angel? Did he think he was cool?”
“So there was a great battle between the Death Metal Pirates and the Garden of Sound Pirates, as each of them cranked their amps up to twelve…” Raziel explained.
“That’s ONE MORE THAN ELEVEN,” Nathan said approvingly.
“…and all madly hurled peanut butter pies at each other!"
“Such a waste,” mourned Charles, imagining the terrible pie carnage.
“But then Shirtless Chris saw the stylish little angel, and said, ‘You are very brave and well turned out, and that little hat goes well with your outfit, so won’t you come and be my pirate wench?’”
“WHAT?” said Charles, throwing down his paper and crayons. “NO HE DI’N’T!”
“Sure. He just did.”
“THIS IS THE WORST STORY EVER!” Charles wailed.
“How are we doing?” inquired Ganesh, who had just come to check on the situation and polish off another dry martini.
"We're doing fine!” Charles sulked. “Wonderful!"
"We just need an ending!" Raziel told him.
"Perhaps I can help?" Ganesh suggested, picking up Charle's recently discarded story and flipping through the pages. “Let us see. So," he told the now rapt children, animals and death metal musicians, "a handsome elephant showed up, and he was dressed all in Emporio Armani….”
“Wait a minute, an elephant in a suit? Elephants don’t wear suits!” Charles protested.
“They do if they do not wish to appear frumpy!”
“Maybe he wore meggings?” Raziel giggled.
“ELEPHANTS DO NOT WEAR MEGGINGS," Gamesh thundered.
“Glad we’ve cleared that up," Charles grumbled. "And what the fuck was e elephant doing in the middle of the sea?"
"It was springtime, when elephants typically take sea voyages. To avoid the crowds."
"Oh-ooooohhhhh," said Nathan.
“And the handsome elephant spied the witty angel and said, ’Well, aren’t you lovely?’ And he took him off to Elephantland, where they raised many handsome little elephants and all lived happily ever after.”
“LITTLE ELEPHANTS? Why didn’t they raise little angels?” Charles demanded.
“Oh, who wants to raise little angels? They’re horrid,” said Ganesh, as Liam stuck a tongue out at him.
“But the whole point of this was to raise the self-esteem of little angels! And you have the angel running off to Elephantland and raising more elephants!”
“He was a handsome and stylishly dressed elephant!”
“WHAT ABOUT THE PIRATES?” demanded Nathan.
“Oh, yes, they lived happily ever after with the pirates, who always brought them peanut butter. Elephants love peanut butter. Now, can we all go to sleep?" The angel babies giggled and gave him peanut buttery kisses, and then settled down and almost immediately began to snore. The great animals too piled up in a heap and nodded off to dream wolf/tiger dreams.
"Huh. Well, that's weird," said Charles, who turned to see Nathan also sawing wood in his chair.
"Elephants," Ganesh whispered smugly. "Now," he said, rising and shutting the story book, "Anyone for a martini?" He looked curiously at his fingers and frowned.
"Sure," said Raziel, skipping off.
"Yeah, OK," grumbled Charkes. Ganesh put an elephant arm over his shoulders, running his fingers through Charles's hair, leaving a peanut-buttery trail.
